Just call me "M'am"

In a few hours, I'm going to be an auntie. Please be a boy.

I have no idea what I'm doing anymore.

I need some time off away from everything. I've made such an effort recently to cut out all the people in my life who have a negative influence on me or involve me in unhealthy relationships. I hope it's a start, but there is so much more still to go. I'm literally taking shots in the dark at what it is that's wrong with me. I cant stand going to work tomorrow, I need to get away from here. Or not, in fact I think what I need is to draw the curtains, go to bed and not wake up for two weeks. Kind of like the shock therapy they gave to psychiatric patients in the 50's, I need a massive shock to the system and then just to sleep and sleep and sleep and then wake up with all my neaurological pathways cleared and re-set. Of course it wasn't a resounding success the first time around.

A series of unfortunate events

Today was incredible.

I need something beautiful to happen. I miss that absolute, complete and utter asorbption into someone else's life.

Everything seems shallow and superficial at the moment. I know it sounds sick, but I almost want to break down completely so that someone can take me somewhere, hand over all the responsibility to someone else and just let them fix my life for me.

I wonder if it's possibly to completely re-invent yourself. I could wake up tomorrow and decide to stop smoking, stop drinking, become completely raw vegan and run away. Get away somewhere. I could pitch up in York and live in a little house on a cobbled street and find a job. I could work at a Rescue Home and walk dogs and get devastating amounts of fresh air every day and go to the local pub after work and gossip about people I don't know. It doesn't sound so impossible. I need to start making my own decisions, I think I care too much about what people think of me, about what's expected of me. If I'm going to make mistakes...

Won't go to sleep without a bedtime Tory

Pretty much sums up this weekend. Please all take time to appreciate how heart-breakingl beautiful my new tassled embellished boots and smells-so-good-you-want-to-milk-it bag are. Yes, yes they're pretty. Yes, yes it is quite fun being this shallow.

The Maison Martin Margiela exibition actually surpassed all expectations, the screenings in particular were incredible and they had so many quirky little exibits on display including the fabric-cake-dress worn at the birthday celebrations, old tickets and flyers and of course several pairs of the Tabi boots (which, incidently, i now know would be oh so practical when climbing bamboo, an occasion for which I have never before found a suitable shoe). The clothes were beautiful, in particular one dress which had a perfect imprint of an old vintage evening gown on it. Everything so was so entirely distressed that it was the imperfections which made everything so perfect. I have NEVER before seen clothes that resemble real "art" so much, which is obviously helped enormously by the use of paint on fabric, paint as make-up (did I mention the make-up? The models had glitter applied to their knees and fabric roses attached to their faces to create the impression that the flowers were actually growing out of their skin) and texture. There was the most beautiful structured piece of knitwear which was a sort of green and silver chainmail effect. I can't even describe the rest of it, the entire collection was beautifully french (though a bit more european than usual) and perfectly constructed.


Anyhoo then it was time to sit in the courtyard, drink more gin, smoke slims and enjoy watching people playing in the water.






My new mum-style jeans are my absolute faves, it's taken me months to find a pair of jeans I like so I may never take these off again.



On a worse note, a load of stuff has happened recently that I haven't told a lot of people about, so I'm taking a break from everything.

Ta ra